


a soul that's born in cold and rain knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

by lovebeyondmeasure



Series: CSFirstFest Ficlets [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: CSFirstFest, Cormoran Strike Fest of Firsts 2020, Easter Weekend, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Masham (Cormoran Strike), Title from a Hozier Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebeyondmeasure/pseuds/lovebeyondmeasure
Summary: “Anyway, thanks for coming on this walk with me,” Robin said, not looking up at him. “I appreciate it. I just needed to get out of the house.”“It’s no big thing,” Cormoran said immediately. “It’s nice of your family to have me. Your mum seemed pleased to have us both.”
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: CSFirstFest Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681525
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68
Collections: The Cormoran Strike Fest of Firsts





	a soul that's born in cold and rain knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> I managed to cram in all four of today's prompts! I'll be posting a few ficlets, but probably not doing all seven days. Thanks to lemon-verbena for putting this event together! 
> 
> Title from Hozier, because of course.

“This is my favorite time of day.” Robin’s feet scuffed on the gravel path, sending little puffs of dust up into the slanting sunbeams that found their way between the branches of the trees. “It’s peaceful, you know?”

Cormoran was thinking about his second cup of coffee, forgotten back on the counter at Robin’s parent’s house. He really wanted the caffeine, but it was too late. 

“It’s nice,” he said, looking around, trying to see what Robin saw. “It’s, uh. Quiet.”

He was used to the bustle of London, always churning, never silent. But out here, it was hushed. Birds could be heard, somewhere overhead. No traffic, no newspaper stands, no pubs spilling music out of their doors. Just their footsteps crunching along, and Rowntree snuffling along the path ahead of them. 

“I know,” Robin said, stretching her arms out over her head. “I feel like I can breathe out here. I mean, I love London, of course, but I think absence makes the heart grow fonder of one’s hometown.”

Cormoran, thinking of his myriad of towns of which none were home, nodded. “I can see that,” he said. The sun spilled across Robin’s face, illuminating her like the Virgin Mary in a stained glass window. 

“Anyway, thanks for coming on this walk with me,” Robin said, not looking up at him. “I appreciate it. I just needed to get out of the house.”

“It’s no big thing,” Cormoran said immediately. “It’s nice of your family to have me. Your mum seemed pleased to have us both.”

Robin hadn’t told her parents anything about her partner and this trip other than to announce that he would be accompanying her home for the weekend of Easter. They’d closed the office and driven up together on Thursday evening; it was Saturday morning now. She hadn’t told them why he was there, but they’d accepted him without comment or complaint, and put him in Stephen’s old room. Cormoran was grateful for their lack of assumptions.

“Of course Mum’s happy to have you,” Robin said, smiling. “She loves anyone who loves her cooking that much, and I think she appreciates your help putting all that food away. She never learned how to stop cooking for three growing boys, plus me.”

Cormora angled a look at her. “You were doing some respectable damage to that meal on your own.” Before Robin could figure out whether this is meant to be an insult- of course it wasn’t- he went on, “I like this version of you much better than the one who was always eating miso soup.”

Robin laughed, startling Rowntree, who was lifting his leg against a tree. 

“I am thoroughly sick of miso soup,” she declared. “Matthew has ruined it for me forever. I’ll probably never order it again.”

There was a set to Robin’s jaw that Cormoran found he rather liked. 

“Good for you,” Cormoran said. “You’re well shot of him, if I might be so bold to say.”

“I agree,” Robin said, smiling at him for a moment, neither of them acknowledging the thing that shimmered between them like a spiderweb, delicate and strong. 

“Oh, it seems it’s time to head back to the house,” Robin said, turning away from Cormoran to look at Rowntree. The lab, well accustomed to doing his walk in a particular way, had reached a fork and was sitting at the left path, waiting for them to catch up. “Right would take us into town, toward the pub. I’m surprised Martin hasn’t taught old Rowntree to go that way.”

Cormoran laughed as they took the left path, wending their way back. It _was_ peaceful out there, in the trees. No deadlines, no bills to pay. Just Robin and a dog and his feelings.

“Maybe later we can give the right-hand path a go,” he suggested. Maybe he’d just like to get her alone again. Maybe later he could be brave. 

“On Easter? The scandal,” Robin said, laughter dancing in her eyes, and maybe Cormoran could be brave right now, with only the trees to see him. 

“It’s not Easter yet,” he argued. “Jesus is still dead right now, isn’t he?”

“For shame, Cormoran Strike,” Robin said. “Not knowing your catechism well enough to know the status of Our Lord and Saviour!”

She was laughing at him, bright and brilliant in the morning sunlight, and Cormoran found he couldn’t help himself; perhaps he could be brave. He reached out, touched her shoulder, and when Robin turned to look up at him he simply leaned over and kissed her. Just a little kiss, beside her mouth; it was practically on her cheek. Hardly a kiss at all. And yet.

Robin stood frozen, staring at him, and Cormoran couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know why he’d done it just then; he couldn’t think of anything but the way Robin smelled of fake maple syrup and pancakes from their breakfast, how very blue her eyes were that morning. 

“What was that?” she asked, quietly. If they hadn’t been out in the middle of nowhere, he might not have been able to hear her at all.

“Nothing,” Cormoran said, “if you don’t want it to be.”

“Hm. And what if I do want it to be?” Robin asked, tilting her face up to him, and Cormoran knew his answer before his brain had caught up to his hand, which was slipping up to cup Robin’s cheek. This kiss was sweeter than the syrup had been, and just as slow and rich on his tongue; Cormoran felt drunk on it, kissing Robin in the sunshine beneath the shelter of the trees. 

He couldn’t have said how long they stood there, kissing like they were the first people on earth to discover it, but Cormoran didn’t care a whit. It was luxurious and easy, kissing Robin. Like stepping through the door of a house he’d never been in before, but knew in his bones was _home._

Eventually, of course, they had to stop, because Rowntree came and nudged Robin’s hand with his dry nose, asking if they might not continue home, where his food and bed were.

“Yes, sorry, old boy,” Robin said to the dog, who huffed with good nature. “Let’s go back, shall we?”

She smiled up at Cormoran, her lips flushed from his, and he smiled back.

“Might as well,” he said. “It’s a lovely morning.”

“Isn’t it?” Robin replied, and she wove their fingers together as they walked slowly along the path back to her parent’s house, the trees rustling above their heads as though telling the wind a new and exciting secret.


End file.
